Princess
by KJL
Summary: It starts with “One more thing? I'm not your princess!” and it ends with “You are so my princess.” But the angst and hell inbetween, ahh, that's what makes the Dasey.


**A/N: I'm working on getting my muse back... I'm pretty sure he's coming back in the form of one of my better friends. Who, incidentally, happens to be pretty freaking awesome, and has a crush on me. But I don't rush these things, after all :] So yeah. My muse has come back, kinda... in the form of a kid named Carl :D

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"You make me sick! I wish to God I'd never had to be stuck with a pervert in the next room!"

This is what hurt the most; when he didn't respond, when he just let her stand there, quietly studying her, when her stomach and... you know, those reproductive organs... were throbbing and she couldn't calm herself down until he either gave in or kept the argument going. Her stomach twisted and she felt those butterflies all the movie girls talked about.

"Casey, I beg your pardon for trying to walk downstairs while **you**decided to walk out of the bathroom without clothes on. Not my fault for looking! You're totally ignoring the fact that I'm a guy, and as such, I'm genetically programmed – _he's pulling this out of his ass, he skipped class during genetics_ – to... you know. Look at that stuff."

"Genetics, hmm? Okay then Derek, tell me what DNA stands for." She fucking read his mind. How the hell does she do it???

"Deoxyribonucleic acid." He's not sure how he did that – _maybe he showed up the first day?_ - but it satisfies her. And dammit, there's so many better ways he could've satisfied her.... but what the fuck is he thinking? Jesus Christ, she's his STEP-sister....

"Whatever. You're still a perv. And I really wish my mom had never met your dad."

"Don't you dare think I don't wish the same, Princess." His lips are tight, and it's because he's trying not to scream. Not because he's trying to fight the urge to grab her and kiss her. Not at all.

"One more thing?" She gets him to turn around and look at her one more time. "I'm not your fucking princess!"

He's shocked, because Casey McDonald never says those words.

She's more shocked, because she knows perfectly well she's lying. And Casey hates lying.

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Later that night, when they've both pretended to go to their rooms, just so the rest of the family will go to bed, he grabs that walkie-talkie. Because they bought that set for that damn game contest (which he won. He always wins.) and then... after the whole talk about university.... it became necessary to arrange private chats without little ears hearing.

Wait a minute, little ears his ass. They were like... 14 year old spies. At least he thought they were 14. He couldn't ever remember, birthdays weren't really important to him at all.

Anyways, he was going to lose his nerve if he kept thinking. Might as well get this over with.

She heard the walkie-talkie crackle in her desk drawer, so she grabbed it out and listened. "I think we both know we need to talk. Get your ass over here."

"Harsh, much? I don't think I need to take that kind of shit."

"Fine then. I can always come over there."

And before he says anything else, she's in his room, her chest heaving - _standing close to the door like his room will violate her if she gets any further in – _and he suddenly lost the ability to breathe. He's not quite sure where it went, to be honest.

He beckons her over, bending his fingers in that damn classic gesture that he never, never wants to have to do to any other woman ever again....

And she comes. Of course. Sits herself on the edge of his bed, trying not to let herself get any closer. But he knows how much closer she wants to get, by the way she shudders, and her breathing gets more shallow, and her eyes, her pupils dilate – _he's not sure if they're supposed to do that or not –_ and she bites her lip unknowingly, and oh, she wants him. She wants him so badly and she doesn't even know it.

The problem is he's lost his edge. Lost his cool uncaring edge, and thrown himself into this conflict, this war, this disaster whole-heartedly, and he can't breathe, he can't stop himself from moving closer, because he can't breathe until their lips touch, and she's the only real thing in the world, and he knows he should never, never be doing this because in six months, they'll have a little brother, and... fuck, he doesn't care because she makes him feel like a man, like someone worth something and not just the nobody everyone takes him for.

And she can't help but feel like this was all doomed to happen from the start, and she loves every second of it, her hands can't seem to stay steady.... or off of him. She's in his hair, on his back, touching his ass, and as she rolls over so she's on top, she can't help but imagine the possibilities...

Which she won't. There are no possibilities. For god's sake, they're steps!

And she's arguing with the fucking voice in her head, and all she wants is to keep kissing him till they both die blissfully from lack of oxygen.

And there is no specific end...

No need for one.

Because the last thing she hears him say before she ceases to care is, "You are so my fucking princess."

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**A/N: I love this. I love angst, and nonsense, and drabble, and my fingers are flying because I absolutely love the drama, and I feel really good about this, in all actuality, even though the plot may be lacking and such, but it's a one-shot, and who cares?? Haha. I'm hyper as hell, but please review, tell me you loved it too!**


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